Ides Of Swing Lyrics - Andrew Bird's Bowl Of Fire

Some say April is the cruelest 

And though I can be quite morose 

The stiff who penned it on a fool's list 

Of those who are chronically verbose 

When your head starts craning back 

And your breath comes short and fast 

The music of the spheres start to bounce and sing 

That's when you know you're swinging 

When your eyes roll back into your head 

And the sap from the trees on your fingers have bled 

Swooning to the charms of Mephisto's waltz 

That's when you know you've got some schmaltz 

When you've got the evil eye and unconsciously growl 

Your hands start shaking and you crouch and prowl 

These terrifying symptoms are a sure fire sign 

That you're pimping, baby and you're feeling fine